


Last Time Together

by inkykeys



Series: Sokovia Burning [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Bombing, Bombs, Childhood, Gen, Kid Pietro Maximoff, Kid Wanda Maximoff, Parent Death, Pre-Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie), Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-23
Updated: 2016-02-23
Packaged: 2018-05-22 18:38:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6090352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inkykeys/pseuds/inkykeys
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Before he was fast and she was weird...<br/>The last day the Maximoff twins see their parents starts out like any other, but soon becomes one they will never forget.</p><p>Based off the speech Pietro gives Ultron about his ‘little picture.’</p>
            </blockquote>





	Last Time Together

The table is set; the warm soup steams in the porcelain bowls. Spoons and glasses are set around the four chairs. Their mother busies herself tidying before she sits to eat. Their father kisses her cheek before sitting down himself. The twins are playing in the small area just off the kitchen. Their mother calls to them, tells them put their games away and to come sit at the table. Pietro rushes to eat, hungry after the day’s adventures. Wanda cleans up like their mother said; he is always in a hurry and she is always just behind him.

“Ah, ah, have you washed your hands?” Their mother asks them as they are climbing onto the seats. They quickly slide down and rush to the sink. Pietro reaches across the wide basin towards the knob that turns the water on. The steady flow washes over the two sets of small hands. They wash quickly and turn to dry their hands on the linen towel over the handle of the oven.

“Are you two coming? The food is getting cold!” Their father jokes and they pound back to the table. They sit, their seats opposite one another. Pietro begins to eat immediately, and burns his tongue. Wanda hides a laugh as their mother scolds him.

Her laughing is soon replaced by a loud crash below them. All four of them shake in their seats. A hole begins to grow in the middle of the floor. It grows quickly, eating at their home. Their father pulls them up out of their chairs and together the parents push the twins towards the corner where the walls are more stable. The carpet is sucked in, followed by chairs and table. The dishes crash together and they, along with the noise of all the furniture of all the floors of the building crashing into the hole are deafening.

The twins are pressed to the wall when they turn their heads just to watch helplessly as their parents scramble away from the expanding chasm. The floor gives away from beneath their mother’s feet and they scream as she falls in. Their father turns to look, only to have the cracks catch up to him and he reaches out for something, anything to hold onto, before he falls.

Wanda presses her face into the wall as tears burn down her face. She is tugged away from her space as it too, gives away. Pietro pulls her back towards their parent’s small room. The one part of the home without cracks in the floor. The two of them crawl under the bed. They are too big to be hiding under beds, the wires press into their backs even when they are pressed tight to the floor.

A second bomb, for it must have been a bomb to cave the floors in, crashes through the wall. They both scream again and clutch each other tightly, knowing that they are about to die. Seconds pass, seconds that are too long: the bomb should have exploded by now. They should be nothing but blood on the wall. They open their eyes. The bombshell is sitting, large and intimidating, not three feet from where they hide. It consumes their field of vision. It is all they can see: gray metal with five, white letters painted on the side. STARK, the word burns into their eyelids.

Their bodies itch to move away, to run from this engine of death, but they can’t. Instead they huddle together under the bed, afraid to move, afraid to set off the bomb. Cries can be heard from the floors around them. Every one causes them panic. Maybe even the movements above or below will cause the explosion. They can’t be sure what will, so they stay put.

They don’t dare move for two days. Their stomachs rumble, hungry for the meal they never got to finish. Their throats ache, parched. Their eyes burn from the silent tears that have fallen almost constantly; their chests are tight with sobs they don’t dare let out.

People come for them eventually, a search party finds them hiding. They carefully clear the bricks and debris from around them. Wanda’s knuckles are white. After sitting so still for so long, she is afraid the movements will set off the bomb. Pietro is terrified as well, but he won’t let it show. Without their parents, he is left to keep the two of them safe.

After hours of careful clearing, a hole is made and the twins are pulled out from their confinement. They shake, their muscles tense. A young woman offers them a stay in her home. They gladly accept and together the three of them leave the ruins of the building the twins used to call home.

The once-tall apartments now slump together in a still-smoldering wreck of destroyed homes. The buildings nearby are missing large pieces, others are only rubble. The twins are silent as they walk arm-in-arm. Their eyes are wide as they witness Sovokia burn for the first time.


End file.
